Inking Eagle (Charon MC Trilogy Book 1)

by Khloe Wren

  Once Uncle Clint brought me home to Texas I was instantly surrounded by this huge biker family that, initially, frightened the shit out of me. Especially after what my father had said about bikers. That was only until I got to know them, though. Now, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. They were rough, and occasionally did shit the law said was wrong–but they were always there for me. Whenever I’ve needed anything, they’ve come through and supplied it. Like this shop. Silky Ink was my baby. The club had loaned me the start-up funds to open it, and I was slowly paying them back, much to my uncle’s disapproval. The club would have been happy to put their name to the shop forever, but I wanted it to be mine. I wanted to prove I could make it successful on my own.

  I’d opened it three years ago to instant success. Of course, the fact the entire club came to me for their ink helped a great deal. I currently had three other artists working the shop with me, two men and another woman. Because some of the old timers didn’t want a woman doing their ink, I’d had to find an older male tattooist pretty damn quick after opening. Even now, I still had to watch that appointments don’t clash. A few of the old timers are old-fashioned enough, they don’t want to have to watch some chick getting a tramp stamp tattooed on her while they were getting their ‘real’ ink done. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it. Sexist idiots. But a girl’s gotta eat, so I did my best to keep them all happy.

  “How much longer you want to spend in the chair tonight, Tiny?”

  This piece was huge and covered his entire back. Naturally, the main image was the club colors, a stylized black skull that had cross bones made out of bike pistons behind it, and a feathered angel wing on one side and a dragon wing on the other. It was the perfect mix of light and dark, good and evil. Because that’s what the Charons were. They were the kings of skating the edges of the law (and occasionally breaking it) for good reasons.

  As a woman, I didn’t know much of what they did. Club business wasn’t my business, but I’d heard rumors, and saw what mysteriously happened when no one was looking in the dark of night. I was proud to be associated with the club and loved living in the safe town of Bridgewater, where everybody within a hundred mile radius knew not to mess with anyone in the town unless they wanted the wrath of the Charon MC brought down on them.

  Tiny stretched his neck to look up at the clock on the wall.

  “Give it another half hour, Silk. I got work to do later.”

  Yeah, the boys weren’t the only ones that earned road names. I’d been called Silky since I was fifteen. One of the old timers at a club barbeque commented that I could talk Bulldog into any damn thing with my silky voice and the way I’d bat my eyelashes. It’d stuck. As an adult, it got shortened to Silk more often than not. Still, it was better than the incredibly old-fashioned Claudine my folks had named me. Focusing back on my task, I eyed off the design, working out how best to finish it off for now.

  “When you coming back? If it’s not tomorrow, we’re going to have to leave it a couple weeks to heal before I can continue.”

  I knew he was booked in for a session each night this week, but I didn’t know what he meant by work. He could have been pulled in to do a run for a couple of days.

  “I’ll be here tomorrow. I want this piece done.”

  I grinned. Good. I wanted to get it done too. It was going to look spectacular.

  “It’s going to look fucking epic, Tiny.”

  On the feathered wing side of the tatt, there would be a kickass vengeful angel. On the other side, a wicked looking dragon. I was really proud of the design. Working with Tiny, it had taken me a couple weeks to draw up the final design and seeing him so hell-bent on getting it inked as fast as he could gave me a buzz like you wouldn’t believe.

  Gabs stayed quiet until after Tiny left. Then she came over to help me clean up so we could both get going.

  “Why do we suddenly have guards 24/7 anyhow?”

  My breath caught for a moment before I could force myself to act normal. Anything even close to club business, I couldn’t talk to Gabs about. Even if it was something I was only guessing at, because I didn’t have a fucking clue about it.

  “You know, usual shit with the Iron Hammers. The club’s just being careful.”

  It was an educated guess on my part, and told Gabs nothing the entire town didn’t already know. The Iron Hammers had always had it in for the Charons.

  The Iron Hammer MC was a club based down in Galveston. They wanted to own the entire strip between there and Houston. Unfortunately for them, the Charons didn’t agree. The club kept our town’s streets clean of drugs and violence. Every night there were at least a half- dozen Charons patrolling.

  My shop didn’t normally have the door guarded, and when I’d tried to grill Uncle Clint about it, he told me it was ‘club business’ and to just accept it. He also told me if I tried to lose my guards, I’d end up on lockdown at the clubhouse indefinitely.

  A shudder ran through me. The last thing I wanted was to not be able to leave the clubhouse. I needed fresh air and space around me. I also need to be able to head off for a few days before the eleventh of next month, so I’d be a good girl until then. Because no matter what was going on, on the anniversary of 9/11 I wasn’t going to be around a ton of people, listening to them all say how tragic the whole thing was.

  It had been so long now, only a few of the older club members remembered how I lost my parents that day. I knew the younger guys didn’t mean any offense by what was said every year–I just didn’t want to hear it. So, for the week surrounding the anniversary, every year I take off on my own. No one knows where I go. I’ve never even told Gabs where I retreat to, and this year wasn’t going to be any different.

  As I followed Gabs out the front door and locked up, I got an eyeful of Eagle in all his hot biker glory. As least my guard was pretty to look at in the meantime.

  Eagle

  Something wasn’t right with Silk. She didn’t look any different, wearing her usual combo of blue jeans and black t-shirt with her shop’s logo on it, with her long blonde hair in a braid down her back. But since I’d arrived first thing this morning, my instincts had warned me that there was something brewing under her surface. All day I’d tried to figure out what it might be, but I couldn’t work it out. My appearance made it obvious I had Native American ancestry, but I hadn’t been raised immersed in the culture. My mother had abandoned me to the foster care system as a baby, and the system hadn’t given a shit what my heritage was. Despite that fact, I’ve always sensed things others couldn’t, and learned early on to trust in my instincts.

  I earned the nickname ‘Eagle’ within days of starting boot camp, and it had stuck. Most people think the reason I see things they don’t is due to extra-sharp eyesight. But truthfully, it’s because I’ve learned to rely on, and trust in, my other senses over the years. Those instincts saved me more times than I could count while in foster homes, and then again on deployment. I winced as I thought of all the insurgents that had lost their lives due to my instincts and Taz’s perfect aim. Our last mission had been weeks of sitting in hides, working out distances and lining up shots. I’d seen way too many middle-eastern alleys in that time. And way too many bodies littering them when we pulled out. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it all down. It had happened two years and five months ago. Nothing I could do to change any of it. I needed to focus on the fact my life didn’t involve killing people anymore, not get bogged down in the past.

  I was grateful when Silk come through the front door of her shop, and in a heartbeat, had my complete focus on the present and her. This sexy as hell, inked-up blonde bombshell had captured my full attention from the moment I first saw her when Mac, Taz and I rode in that public poker run last October. She’d been riding her purple Softail and damn, but she rode that thing with complete confidence. I’d never seen a woman look more comfortable riding a bike solo than she had that day. And it had drawn me to her.

  “You two heading home now?”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, having a quiet night in. Got a booking first thing so need my head on straight.”

  I frowned down at her. “What are you playing at, Silk?”

  She blinked up at me and Gabs chuckled behind her. Yeah, I’d heard she’d earned her nickname for the way she used to bat those big doe eyes at her uncle and smooth as silk get away with whatever the hell she wanted.

  “I ain’t Bulldog, honey. Those eyes won’t work with me. What you playing at?”

  Her jaw clenched as her gaze narrowed.

  “I’m not up to anything. I’m worn out after working my ass off all day, and now I’m going home to crash. What’s so unusual about that?”

  I watched her closely, looking for anything that would give away what she’s got going on.

  “It’s the easy way you’re accepting having a 24/7 bodyguard that has me nervous. You planning on slipping your leash?”

  The slight stiffening in her shoulders told me I was onto something.

  “Leash? Just you try to put one on me and we’ll see how well that goes for you.”

  She was standing close and was poking me in the chest with her finger with each word she spoke. Damn, but she was so fucking sexy all fired up. I hoped she couldn’t see the bulge in my jeans I was now sporting thanks to her.

  “It’s a figure of speech, Silk. Don’t get your panties in a twist. No one would be crazy enough to try to leash you. Which is why you just accepting your security detail has me wondering about what you’re up to.”

  Silk rested her fists on her hips and glared at me but before she could say anything else, Gabs came up and linked her arm through hers.

  “She’s not up to anything tonight. We’re both going home and we’re gonna order a pizza, watch a rom com and go to bed early. Ain’t that right, Silk?”

  With a huff, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Gabs. Killing some brain cells watching you drool over Hugh Grant sounds like my perfect night.”

  My lips twitched at her sarcasm. I could see Silk drooling over the Rock or maybe Vin Diesel, but not some pretty-boy actor. No way this girl liked rom coms. Gabs, on the other hand, I could totally see planning her fake wedding to Hugh Grant by night’s end. Gabs was all light and fluffy to Silk’s hardcore. Somehow they meshed together to form an unbreakable friendship that I’ve been told they’ve had since high school.

  I raised my hands in defeat. “Fine. You’re not going to tell me straight. I’ll just have to work it out some other way, so I can stop you.”

  A flash of heat in her eyes had my cock twitching.

  “Like hell you will. It has nothing to do with the club, or you, prospect. So get the hell out of my face.”

  I let her storm by me to her bike. I knew she was lashing out because she was pissed I’m onto her. But the whole ‘you’re only a prospect’ thing bites. I’m ten months in, and at some point in the next couple months would, hopefully, be asked to patch in. Of course, that was a double-edged sword. I wanted my top rocker to be a full member of the club. But as a full member, I wouldn’t be on Silk’s security detail as often as I was currently was. Of course, being patched in also meant she was no longer out of bounds. Would she agree to be mine? I knew without a doubt she’d make one hell of an old lady.

  My thoughts kept spinning as first Silk got on her bike, then Gabs climbed on behind her. Watching those two cuddle up, getting ready to go, had me needing to adjust myself before I got on my own ride. As I predicted she would, Silk gunned the throttle and shot out of the parking lot. I followed them home, but stayed sitting on my bike out on the road. Normally I’d try to get them to let me go through the house before they entered. But I’m not willing to risk it tonight, especially since my instincts told me it was all clear. I was more likely to get shot by Silk than find anyone in their place.

  As a prospect, I hadn’t been told why Silk suddenly needed around-the-clock guarding. There were always issues with the Iron Hammers, but nothing specific had gone down that I’d heard about. I knew some of the other Daughters of the Club weren’t being watched at all. It didn’t add up, but as a prospect, my job was to do what I was told, not to question it. And if it meant more time around Silk, I wasn’t going to complain.

  Once the girls locked themselves in, I left my bike to do a quick boundary check of the house, just to be sure. When nothing looked suspicious, I rang for the night shift to come in. I was due to work a few hours, manning the bar back at the clubhouse once I finished here, and I was hoping to catch one or two of the old-timers. Hopefully, they would have had a few drinks by the time I got there, and would be willing to answer my questions about what the hell might be going on.

  Chapter 2

  Silk

  Two weeks later I sat at the clubhouse bar and glared at the bottles that lined the back wall. Eagle’s gaze burned into my back, but I didn’t care. That sexy, badass biker got me put on fucking lockdown so I’m pointedly ignoring him while I get falling-down drunk.

  “Gimme another one, Taz.”

  The prospect manning the bar was Eagle’s buddy. Naturally. I couldn’t seem to get away from the bastard lately. It had been nearly a year since Eagle and his buddies Mac and Taz became prospects. I couldn’t wait for them to get patched in so they didn’t have prospect jobs that meant the three of them were constantly in my damn face.

  “Here ya go, doll.”

  I chuckled as I realized Taz’s sexy Aussie accent sounded better and better the more I drank. He had light, sandy-colored hair, clipped up the sides and a little longer on the top. Jarhead. Taz was the only one of the three that had kept his high and tight cut. His eyes showed he’d been to war. Literally. I often saw the shadows that would pass over his baby blues when I looked into his eyes. He did a good job hiding his pain behind his wicked sense of humor, but I could see he was only showing the world a small part of himself. Hopefully, once he patched in, he’d open up to his club brothers and let himself enjoy life a little more. It was one of the great things about MC life. Everyone here had your back, guaranteed.

  I snatched up the shot and threw it back, barely noticing the burn anymore as I slammed it back down.

  “Again.”

  “No.”

  That last shot had my head buzzing, but not so much I missed the growled command from over by the door. I spun my stool to glare at him, and had to grip the side of the bar so I didn’t fall on my ass. Taz’s laughter filled the air, but I ignored him.

  “You ain’t the boss of me, prossspect.”

  When I slurred the last word, he smirked over at me. Dammit. It was Friday night and the clubhouse was packed. He shouldn’t have been able to even hear me from where he stood, let alone keep eyes on me all bloody night to know how much I’d drunk.

  “C’mon, Tazzz. Give me one more? Please.”

  I batted my eyes the way I did with my uncle. It always used to work...

  “Sorry, doll. Big man says no.”

  With a pout, I scowled at him. “Eagle doesn’t fuckin’ get a say in what I do.”

  “When Bulldog puts him in charge of you, he does.”

  My temper flared and burned off some of my buzz. Pushing away from the bar, I started doing the rounds to find my dear uncle. How dare he? It was bad enough they tricked me into coming here tonight, then locked my ass down when I tried to leave. Now they wanted to prevent me from having a little fun too? No fucking way. I marched toward the back hallway. If Aunt Rose was still here, they’d be out the back sitting around the fire pit.

  By the time I made it to where I could feel the heat of the fire, my alcohol buzz had completely disappeared. Pissed off that I couldn’t even be left alone to get drunk–or stay that way–I stormed around the yard, but there was no sign of my uncle or aunt. I couldn’t see any of the other old ladies either, so I figured they must have all left already. That was normally how Friday nights went. All the partnered-up members left with their old ladies and kids before the really wild shit started up. The Charons may have gone mostly legal, but they hadn�
�t left the sexual debauchery behind.

  With a sigh I moved back inside. I’d have a quick check in the main rooms to see if Uncle Clint had hung back for some reason. As the VP, he sometimes stayed behind for club business. And if I couldn’t find him, I was aiming at finding Scout. The club President would deal with my fucking shadow, who I could still feel watching me.

  I made it two steps inside the door of the closed room before a low growl came from behind me. Unsure what Eagle was going to do, I quickly looked around the room for anyone who had the power to order my guard dog to heel. I rolled my eyes at some of the club whores who were naked and being fucked by two or three guys each. This was why I’d wanted to go home an hour ago. I knew nothing happened here that wasn’t one-hundred-percent consensual, but that didn’t mean I wanted to watch the shit go down.

  “You don’t need to be in there, babe.”

  I straightened my shoulders, and because I knew it would piss him off, strode deeper into the room. I didn’t want to be here, but somehow annoying Eagle was more important than my discomfort at finding myself in the middle of an orgy. I knew no one would try anything with me. I was wearing my cut with my Daughter of the Club patch sewn on front and center. Well, front and to the side, really. That patch screamed loud and clear that if you weren’t thinking “I want her for my old lady”, then you didn’t touch.

  A few low curse words were my only warning. Eagle came to stand in front of me, blocking my view, then faster than I could track, he had his shoulder against my stomach and I was over the damn man’s shoulder like a fucking sack of potatoes, then he strolled out into the hallway.